


Quark

by bananaquit



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: College Fiddauthor, Fiddauthor Week, M/M, fiddauthor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananaquit/pseuds/bananaquit
Summary: What sound does a subatomic duck make?





	Quark

**Author's Note:**

> For day one of fiddauthor week four - something silly.

“Hey. Hey, Ford.”

Stanford turned to look at his roommate and quirked a brow. He recognized the tight smirk on Fiddleford’s face and the teasing tone immediately, a sure sign that he was about to crack some ridiculous joke like he always did. “Yes?” he responded. He’d normally be bothered by being distracted from his work, but if it meant just joking around with his best friend, he couldn’t complain.

“What sound does a subatomic duck make?”

“I don’t know, Fiddleford, what sound _does_ a subatomic duck make?”

“QUARK!”

The warmth of Ford’s laughter filled the small room that the two shared. The noise made everything seem a little more comforting and homey, Fiddleford thought. “Fiddleford, that’s pri-” Ford doubled over laughing immediately, trying to get out words between wheezing breaths. “Priceless!” Ford covered his face with one hand, smile wide as he chuckled.

Fiddleford grinned as he watch him. The sound of Ford’s giggles wrapped around him like a security blanket. He couldn’t help but snicker a little as he listened, the silliness infectious. He leaned close and put one hand on Ford’s shoulder, making a downward gesture with the other. “Shhh, shh.” he managed between chortles. “It’s late, I don’t wanna get into another incident with the neighbors.” He gestured back over his shoulder and toward the wall.

“You started it!” Ford whispered. He gave Fiddleford a playful shove, causing his swivel chair to roll away from where he sat in his. Fidds grabbed the desk in front of them and pulled himself back up beside his friend.

“I'm bein' serious, Stanford!” Fiddleford hissed, the word riddled with his signature voice cracks.

“Sorry, sorry.” Ford replied, his laughter finally dying down. The echo of the laughter still hung silently in the air. Fiddleford thought it was funny how the sound changed the atmosphere, made it happier, brighter. The pair sat there and smiled at each other for a few moments.

Ford turned back to the assignment he had been working on before the banter begun and picked up his pencil, though the small smile still lingered on his face. Fiddleford continued to stare at him. There was something special about the way the soft yellow lamplight fell on Ford’s fluffy brown hair and reflected in his eyes, something that made a bizarre giddiness stir in Fiddleford’s chest.

“I like your laugh.” Fiddleford said quietly.

The pencil in Ford’s hand suddenly became as slippery as a melting ice cube, instantly sliding out of his grasp and clattering onto the desk. He fumbled to catch it, flushing slightly with embarrassment as it escaped him once again. “Oh, uh, thank you.” was all he could manage, his whole body suddenly a lot more rubbery and wobbly than usual. He took a deep breath and let it out to steady himself. “Thank you.” he repeated, not sure what else to say, not sure why a simple compliment was making him fall apart.

Fiddleford smiled at him, then picked up the pencil and slowly placed it back in Ford’s hand, their fingers brushing against each other for _far_ longer than was socially acceptable. Fiddleford drew his hand back, light pink dusted across his cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

  



End file.
